One Last Time
by Leia
Summary: [Complete] A short take on what Gohan was feeling after Piccolo's death at the hands of Nappa . . . but what surprise awaits him when he goes back to Piccolo's old training grounds?


Disclaimer: I do not own any part of DB/Z/GT.  (FUNimation in the background: "If we had a nickel . . .") 

Aside from k/18 stories, I also like Gohan and Piccolo.  I think they're so cute together!  (No, this is not a romance.  Sorry....  xP) This is just my take on how Gohan felt after Piccolo was killed by Nappa.  *sniff* 

**One Last Time **

_Gohan__ threw his hands up over his face protectively to shield his eyes from the blinding white light as Nappa powered up an immense blast.  Fear unlike he had ever known before filled every part of Gohan's body, making it seem as though the very blood in his veins had turned to terror.  So this was how it felt to be about to die . . .  _I'm sorry Mom, Dad_, Gohan thought.  _

_A shadow fell over him, and Gohan opened his eyes a crack.  Piccolo stood in front of him, arms outstretched.  As Gohan watched, completely helpless, Nappa fired the blast and Piccolo -- Gohan's own Mister Piccolo -- took the full brunt of it -- _

Gohan sat straight up in bed, soaking with sweat and the blankets twisted oddly around his legs.  The small boy breathed a sigh of relief and disentangled himself from the bedclothes, breathing heavily.  "It was just a dream," he reminded himself, trying to slow his pounding heart.  "Just a dream.  Mister Piccolo isn't --" 

Gohan's eyes snapped into focus, and he glanced around the room -- the hospital room.  Kuririn lay sleeping in a bed across from Gohan, bandages on his head and arms.  Gohan looked down at himself and saw the wrapping on his own body.  

"No . . ."  he whispered.  "It's not . . .  not a dream . . ."  Gohan carefully probed the back of his mind, where for the past few months he had been able to feel Piccolo's presence.  It had been a continual source of comfort to him, to know that his friend was always there.  

Now, the link had vanished.  The dream had really happened; Piccolo was gone.  

With that, Gohan burst into tears.  His father was back, his new friend Kuririn was alive, yet Gohan felt so . . .  alone.  

His mother ran into the room at the sound of his cries, her black hair falling around her face and a concerned light in her eyes.  Gohan had woken up in hysterics for the past three nights, even though he was perfectly safe, and it worried ChiChi to no end.  She frowned -- she'd known all along that no good could come of fighting.  

"Gohan, honey?" ChiChi sat on the edge of the bed and put her hand on her son's shaking shoulder.  "Did you have another nightmare?" 

Gohan nodded miserably, then he launched himself into ChiChi's arms, burying his face in her housecoat and wrapping his tiny hands in her hair.  "It was awful, Mom," he sobbed.  "It was . . .  it was . . ."  

"Sshh," ChiChi soothed him, stroking his hair comfortingly.  "It was just a dream."  

"No!"  Gohan cried, looking up at her with such a pain-filled expression that it almost brought tears to ChiChi's eyes.  "I dreamed about the battle.  It really happened!"  

ChiChi smiled sadly and kissed his forehead.  "I know it's hard, sweetheart.  You miss Yamucha, Tenshinhan, and Chaozu, don't you?" 

Gohan nodded and appeared to calm down, though all he wanted to do was cry harder.  He rested his head on her lap and forced his breathing to even out, appearing to be asleep.  Gohan felt his mother caress his cheek gently, then lay him back down on the bed and cover him with a blanket.  She stayed by his side a few more minutes to make sure he wasn't going to have any more nightmares, then quietly got up and left the room.  

As soon as she had gone, Gohan clutched the blankets in his fists and buried his face in a pillow to muffle the sobs that shook his body.  His mother didn't understand about Piccolo -- no one did.  They all thought Piccolo was a monster, one who had kidnaped Gohan and trained him to use for his own gain.  None of them could see the real Mister Piccolo, the one who emerged only when Gohan was around.  There was a caring side to the Nameksejin, and Gohan knew it; the friendship -- yes, even love -- that they shared was unlike any other Gohan had experienced.  Not even Goku was as close to Gohan as was Piccolo -- Gohan loved his father dearly, but Piccolo was different.  Special.  It was nice for Gohan to know he was the only one who could enter the proud Nameksejin's heart.  

Gohan vividly remembered one night a few weeks past, when he and Piccolo had been taking a walk after a hard day of training.  Neither of them spoke, and as they walked together, Gohan had reached up and taken hold of one of Piccolo's fingers.  Piccolo had glared at first, but when Gohan only beamed up at him in return, a reluctant smile crossed Piccolo's face and he wrapped the boy's small hand in his own.  

And now, his Mister Piccolo had given his life for him.  Gohan choked back a sob as the tears rose in his throat again.  Nobody would believe Gohan if he were to tell them -- only Kuririn had witnessed Piccolo's sacrifice, and when Gohan asked him about it later Kuririn swore it had been a hallucination.  Gohan's chest hitched, and he pressed a hand to his heart.  

_Why, Mister Piccolo?_  he demanded silently.  _Why did you have to leave me?  _

Gohan got up suddenly and threw up the window sash, then flew outside.  He had no idea where he was going, only that he was getting away.  The wind ruffled Gohan's unruly hair and tugged at his pyjamas, whipping hot, salty tears from his eyes.  Gohan wiped them away, and when his vision had cleared he realized he had unwittingly flown back to the mountains where he and Piccolo had trained for all those months.  

The half-Saiyajin boy flew to the spot where they had slept by the campfire, and he smiled sadly.  There were still marks in the dirt from the fire, and Gohan ran his fingers through the dust.  They had had some of their first private conversations by that campfire; Gohan had gotten to know Piccolo quite well in this place.  

Now, Gohan slumped to his knees in the dirt, remembering all those long talks, and how he had gone from being afraid of the Nameksejin to seeing inside his so-reputed dark heart.  

"I miss you," Gohan declared dejectedly.  "I wish it hadn't happened like this."  

He left the campsite and went back to the mountain.  He'd trained his hardest here; he'd crashed into that cliff so many times . . .  in spite of himself, Gohan let out a bitter chuckle.  It was surprising the rocks didn't have a permanent imprint of his body.  Piccolo had pushed him hard, but though Gohan hadn't understood at first, he knew now it was all for his own good.  

Gohan's fists clenched at his sides as anger welled up inside him.  Despite all Piccolo's training, Gohan hadn't been able to save his best friend.  He was a failure.  Gohan's vision blurred again, and he knuckled his eyes.  "Why can't I hold myself together?" 

_Quiet, kid.  I didn't train you all that time for you to become a sissy.  _

"Huh?  Mister Piccolo?" 

_Well, it sure isn't Nappa.  _

Gohan laughed aloud, the first real sign of humour he'd expressed since the fight with the Saiyajins.  "I should've known.  What's going on?" 

_I've talked to you like this before.  Why is it any different just because I'm in the "other world?" _

A smile lit Gohan's face, happy as he was to be speaking to his old sensei once more.  If it hadn't been for Piccolo's comment, Gohan could almost forget he was dead.  Almost.  "I guess you're right.  What's it like over there?" 

Piccolo's voice sounded amused in Gohan's mind.  _Boring.  I'm with your stupid friends on Kaio-sama's planet.  You owe me big, kiddo . . .  I wouldn't put you through this idiocy for anything.  _

The smile faded.  "Mister Piccolo," Gohan ran a hand through his hair.  "I'm really sorry about everything.  I didn't mean to let you down, but I got so scared --" 

_Can it, Squirt.  If it wasn't me, it would've been you_.  Piccolo's astral "voice" softened a fraction, something that never happened when anyone else was around.  _Listen to me.  You tried your hardest out there, and I'm proud of you.  I have no regrets.  _

A tear trickled down Gohan's cheek.  "But if I was stronger and less afraid, this never would've --" 

_What part of "no regrets" can you not get through your thick skull?_  Annoyance tinted Piccolo's tone, but Gohan could still hear the underlying affection in it.  _I'm glad I'm here instead of you_.  Piccolo suddenly groaned in frustration.  _Ohhh__, kid, you're gonna' make me work for this, aren't you_.  

"What?" Gohan glanced around in confusion.  "What are you talking about?" 

_Just a second.  _

The air in front of Gohan shimmered, then coalesced into a semi-transparent image of Piccolo sitting cross-legged in the air, a halo floating above his turbaned head.  The image opened one eye.  "Well?" 

A wide grin crept across Gohan's face.  "Wow!  How are you doing that?" 

In the background, Gohan saw a very disgruntled-looking Kaio-sama standing behind Piccolo, one hand on the Nameksejin's back.  "Kaio-sama's helping a little," Piccolo explained.  "Normally he can only transmit voices, but with my mind already tuned to yours we were able to work this out."  

Gohan reached out to touch Piccolo's shoulder, but his hand passed right through.  "It's really great to see you again."  

One corner of Piccolo's mouth lifted in a tiny smile.  "Yeah, yeah.  Pulling the ol' heart strings again, huh, kid?" he shook his head.  "I just wanted to tell you that you shouldn't beat yourself up over my death.  It was bound to happen sooner or later anyway."  

Gohan's eyes began to water again, and he quickly wiped them clear.  He didn't want Piccolo thinking he was weak.  "I know, I know.  I'm glad you saved me and everything, but . . .  my gosh, I miss you a lot!"  

Piccolo's mouth quirked again.  "Just for the record, I miss you, too.  The idiots here are too scared to spar with me, so I just get to sit and meditate all day."  

Gohan laughed.  "I bet they are!"  

Kaio-sama spoke up for the first time.  "Piccolo, I can't keep this up much longer.  You'd better say goodbye now."  

The Nameksejin scowled.  "All right, fine," he snapped, then turned back to Gohan.  "Well, kid, I guess time's up.  If you look in that cave over there --" Piccolo extended a taloned finger to point over Gohan's shoulder -- "You just might find something interesting.  I was gonna' give it to you before the battle, but when they came early I forgot."  

Gohan swallowed hard, a lump in his throat, and he raised a hand in farewell.  Piccolo lifted his own hand to Gohan's.  For a second, Piccolo's hand felt almost like flesh and blood again, and his large fingers closed over Gohan's tiny ones.  Then he returned to his spectral form, and their hands passed through each other once more.  

"Piccolo-san . . ."  Gohan gulped, trying not to break down.  "Dai . . ."  

"Dai suki, right?" Piccolo smiled genuinely for the first time in the whole conversation.  "Same to you, kid."  

Gohan's mouth dropped open and Piccolo's image faded.  The small boy stood staring into the empty air, hardly noticing the tears running freely down his cheeks.  "I'll never forget you," Gohan whispered.  

He flew up to the cave Piccolo had indicated, wondering what he would find.  What would Piccolo have left him?  Inside, Gohan found a suit of clothes that was a miniature version of Piccolo's own.  He smiled and ran a hand over the fabric -- then stopped as his fingers brushed something else.  

Reaching under the purple material, Gohan pulled out a slab of rock.  On it were letters, either carved or blasted onto the stone's surface.  Hands trembling, Gohan read the note.  

_Gohan__, this is for you, brat.  If Radditsu was right, it's only a couple more months until his friends come.  After this battle, if Son is brought back to life, I'll probably never see you again.  At first I would've thanked the stars for that.  Now?  Now I don't know.  It's you, you darn kid -- you've done something to me, and I'm not sure I like it.  Something inside me is different -- I don't want to fight your father anymore, for one, and I no longer feel like I have to destroy Chikyuu.  But I'm not the only one who's changed -- I hate to say it, but you're not the whiny infant you used to be.  You've improved more than I ever thought possible, and I must admit I'm proud of you, kid.  I know you'll do fine in the battle.  I have no idea what I'm gonna' do once you're gone; like it or not, you're the only one who really understands me.  Pathetic . . .  but I can't help it.  Stupid kid, you got under my skin and now I can't shake you loose.  Honestly, though, I don't mind all that much.  Well, congratulations on your training, and best of luck.  You've done me proud, boy.  Don't tell anyone I said any of this, or I'll smash you into a wall.  _

Gohan smiled through his tears as he wrapped the stone in the clothes and tucked the bundle under his arm.  He'd get a capsule from Bulma tomorrow; then he could carry Piccolo's gift with him wherever he went . . .  

The small boy glanced up at the sky.  "Thanks, Mister Piccolo.  You'll always be my best friend."  

As he flew back to the hospital, Gohan felt a warm glow spread through him.  Though his best friend was gone, Gohan had a part of him to bring with him to every battle from now on.  Even though Piccolo had died, Gohan was no longer alone.  

****** 


End file.
